Each Other's Heels
She stands upright, in the cold,
She doesn’t falter, but stays bold,
She is welcome at night, and brings peace,
She is a light, closer than the moon,
She is a lamppost.
He limps, searching for things to hold,
He falls, into all sorts of mould,
He is prepared to fight, what he can’t see,
He is alright, a bit of a buffoon,
He is a drunkard.
They always meet when the air chills,
And everybody else sleeps,
He holds her dearly,
He knows it is the last bit he’ll see,
She shivers slightly,
She serves her purpose with glee,
He reeks,
She creaks,
He sweats,
She frets,
He thinks of all he’s left,
Bangs his head,
And rests in her pale arms,
She feels his heavy breath,
Soothes his dread,
And waits for him to take arms,
He is no good, breaks every rule,
But makes her purpose meaningful,
She feels understood by this tardy fool,
He knows the night, like it was taught in school,
They stick to each other,
His back to her chest,
They stay still,
They enjoy one another,
Without a mess,
They stay still,
He takes at good look at the dark,
Turns his head to her spark,
Makes up his mind,
Tells her goodbye,
Steps in the shroud, and leaves,
She looks at him go,
Begging to know,
His feels.
Where does he go?
How does he know,
Where to find her steel?
She is a lamppost,
He is a drunkard,
They are best friends:
Each other’s heels.
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